


A Wedding

by Bridgette_Hayden



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Marriage, Possible Mpreg, non Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-05-15 01:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bridgette_Hayden/pseuds/Bridgette_Hayden
Summary: Harry finally gets the teacher he's always been obsessed with. (AU, born from a Pic Fic. )





	1. A Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All credit and characters belong to JK Rowling. I make no money. I love them so much, I can't let the storied end.

Alan Rickman digital manip by Alisia A Raizingm (?),  (image signature at bottom, from a Hugh Grant image as far as I can tell).

* * *

 

 

Harry had waited years to see this sight. And this date. It hadn’t been easy, befriending Snape after the war and firmly planting himself in his life. Against all advice and against the pleas of his friends, he was the one to ask for the first date. He was the one to initiate the first kiss. How they’d proven everyone wrong. Not only was Snape human beneath all those iron-black layers, he was a warm, great lover. And now Harry took tremendous delight in seeing their wedding guests eat their words.

Sev may have had a few too many drinks to get him through the reception, but he’d done it for Harry. The sight of him in a modern suit, shirt open at the collar, and dark eyes glinting with thinly veiled intoxication, made Harry proud to show him off.

Harry was supposed to be the younger, pretty one, but all eyes were on Snape, who tolerated it by keeping his eyes on Harry. To Snape, this was still just a room full of idiots who’d been made to see how wrong they were, and a traditional wedding hadn’t been his first choice. He’d done it for Harry. They both knew the reception couldn’t last forever. This was Harry’s night to show off the man he’d married. None of their guests had ever suspected that such a prince lurked beneath a teacher’s tight composure.

When he and Harry looked at one another from across the room, through a film of champagne glasses and desire, their guests blushed for them. Everyone saw Harry’s eyes promise to pay the price in full, for such cooperation from Severus.

* * *

A/N: This little thing ended up having a chapter 2.  :-)

\---------------

Top stories by this writer:

[Unbearable Series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1031138)

[Snow Globe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21530506)

[Cauldron](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20813984/chapters/49474280)

[New House](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285186/chapters/47577052) (This can be enjoyed as a stand alone, or as chapter 3 of [A Wedding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285186/chapters/45866704)) 


	2. Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape can't wait to get his husband alone. (AU, one-shot connected to another one-shot.)

 

Image credit to Marcia/Clint Mauro/

* * *

 

 

“You. Here. Now.”

 That was the last warning Snape had given him. And Harry had to admit, the empty space below Snape’s beautiful white shirt, to the perfect lines of his black-clad pelvis, confused Harry as to why he wasn’t straddling the man right now. He should’ve been sitting right there, riding the flex of Snape’s thighs, clothes and all. Talk about keeping dinner warm for him. 

But no, apparently their little Vegas marriage was so epic, it made people forget their manners, pretend they couldn’t read ‘Do not disturb’ signs, and kept Harry trapped at the door in long good-byes and heartfelt speeches. Many of their guests, some of them muggles, were returning to England tomorrow morning. Harry knew it had been a lot to ask of any of them, to attend their American wedding, even if they had paid for everyone’s ticket. So he couldn’t make himself be rude, and he couldn’t cut their long-winded confessions of never believing he’d go through with it, short.

That’s where husbands come in. Blunt, straightforward, husbands.

It was all about the body language. Harry knew that if he let anymore guests detain him with excessive well-wishes, Snape was going to walk up behind him and slam the door in their faces. He was already on his third bottle of champagne, which was like drinking fruit punch to a wizard accustomed to Fire Whisky. He was giving Harry a chance to get rid of everyone his way, the polite way. A marriage was nothing, if not compromise, and Harry knew Sev was waiting for him to show the slightest strain under the weight of having to suffer their inconsiderate guests.

The picture taking had followed them all the way up to their room. When the crowd demanded another kiss, because they couldn’t believe the first one, Harry’s eyes pleaded with Snape not to say what he was really thinking, and to just give them what they wanted. When that led to the demand to see Harry carried over the threshold, something Harry really didn’t feel keen on doing, Snape had him lifted and the door kicked open in time to turn to them, Harry still in his arms, and challenge,

“I trust this is sufficient proof of my intention to consummate this marriage, or do your traditionalist’s sensibilities require seeing me bed my new husband as well?”

Harry kept a smile plastered to his face, but most everyone got the message after that and limped away. Stragglers were asking for punishment. They were mainly Hermione, the Weasleys, and McGonagall with some of Harry’s other favorite teachers. Madam Hooch, from his first year, couldn’t stop hugging Harry and telling him how dashing he looked. “I swear your Mum would be so proud. I know I am.” 

As tears of happiness glistened in Hermione’s and Mrs. Weasley’s eyes, Harrry’s hearing adjusted itself to the sigh of all sighs behind him. His time was up. His husband would now be solving this problem for them. Harry went deaf to the gibberish in front of him, as he heard the whisper of a leather belt sliding from its buckle. His breath caught at the distinct sound of metal teeth clicking as a zipper slid quickly down.

He told himself to keep smiling. Keep calm. Snape couldn’t be that drunk. And if he was walking up behind him, in some inappropriate way just to make their friends disappear, the looks on these ladies’ faces would soon tell him.

Snape did walk up behind him, and judging from the way he felt against Harry’s backside, there was nothing inappropriate to be seen. But Harry certainly felt it.

Being true ladies, their female guests pretended they weren’t shocked by how close Snape stood against Harry.

“You two are so cute,” Fleur Weasley blurted.

When she saw Snape bend into Harry’s neck and kiss it, her smile faltered. Ron cleared his throat and the rest of them took a step back.

Harry didn’t need to occlument to see Snape’s wicked performance through their eyes. Feigning a complete lack of concern for their presence, his eyes traced the texture of Harry’s skin, while speaking to them. “So sorry we can’t invite you in for liqueurs and such. 

His hands lifted to the front of Harry’s shirt and began undoing the buttons.

“But as cute as we are, we are in desperate need of privacy.” 

What was astonishing, was that the eyes of their guests, who began backing away, followed Snape’s graceful hands to Harry’s collar. Hypnotically, they were all just as disbelieving as Harry, as Snape’s fingers deftly made their way to undoing each subsequent button down his chest. 

Blushing, but trapped within the luxury of Snape’s embrace, Harry let Snape have his fun. 

“If you can’t understand that, then perhaps you don’t mind watching because your presence is no longer going to be an obstacle between me and my happiness this evening.”

It took their eyes growing huge, and Snape getting to the button just above Harry’s waistline, for them to remember themselves, dismiss their own heated flushes, and wave their last good-byes. 

Too aroused to laugh, too ready for what Snape was pressing into him, Harry waited for Snape to close the door and lock it.

Alone at last, he made love to his husband.

* * *

[Top stories by this writer](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1031138)


	3. New House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Married life delivers a blow. Harry and Severus get past it.  
> Alternate summary: Recently married to Severus, Harry thinks their new home is haunted. After a devastating accident, he realizes that it's simply blessed.  
> (This can be read as a stand-alone, even though it's ch.3 of A Wedding)

[ ](http://www.sonnypreyer.com/images/snarrymadbee.jpg)

Credit: Mad Bee/Snarry_Always,  https://storgram.com/post/BLY5RFgA0Jr

* * *

 

*WARNING: This is entirely happy, but sad elements might make you cry! So far these have been sexy and cute pic fics, but left on my own, I tend to get serious. This is intended to be happy, if a little tearful. It’s still about their marriage.

___

Dawn breaks. Their first house. Their first argument as spouses.

Harry is exactly where Severus thought he would be. He sits on the steps facing East of their wrap-around porch. His tea has been left untouched, in favor of a flask of Irish whiskey. The sun is hesitant to appear from behind an ocean sky of white cloud cover. It’s still mostly dark. Harry stares into that abyss for comfort. It will not come.

Severus joins him, pouring a sip of the whiskey, seeing as how there are two cups. He’s never been good at polite chatter, but he’s willing to make an effort for his new husband. Sitting there, neither is in any hurry to speak. He lets Harry have as much silence as he wants, not sure if he wants to know what he must be feeling.

Neither can remember why their argument seemed so important now. They knew the details, just not the point. It didn’t matter anymore. The night had come, took one look at their petty reasons, and took it all away, leaving them stunned and trying to come to terms with the unexpected.

He tried not to intrude into Harry’s thoughts, but they were practically broadcast into the air. Harry was hurt more than he was frustrated, and his anguish filled the wizard who loved him.

Why was it, the minute one dream comes satisfyingly true, it gives birth to so much dissatisfaction? One thing going right, results in something else going wrong. Harry knew that wasn’t the case, but that’s what it felt like. He finally let it out. Severus saw a tear spill with it.

“How can something I didn’t even know about, something I wasn’t even thinking of, hurt this much? It didn’t exist before now. Why should it matter?”

Not wanting to bombard him with insensitive insight, Severus answered soft and slow. “It’s perfectly logical. If you’ve never owned a house, usually all you know to create, is a house.”

This was an appropriate analogy that he knew Harry could relate to. “That is triumph enough. It’s only when you get there and you experience what it’s lacking, that you are forced to admit what could be better. Nothing has gone wrong. This is how we transform each stage of our lives, by coming to better and better conclusions. We were quarreling over nothing. It took this to make it clear. The argument is solved. Now we know what’s important to us.”

The house was a grand wedding present from Harry, to his husband. Harry spent two years designing the perfect dwelling, customized to the needs of two wizards, and hidden across unruly waters that only allowed access to it when the tide was low. Seclusion was prized among its luxuries. He’d borrowed the open-floor plan from American beach houses that let the outdoors in through vast, panoramic windows, while the upstairs maintained the charm of private English cottages and cozy rooms with fireplaces to each, as well as terraces that connected around the perimeter of the house.

He’d placed it in Scotland, to stay close to the magic. In conjunction with modern architecture, with the help of engineers, he’d designed separate workshops for himself and Severus. He’d dissected every inch of square footage to its most useful function, from the general library on the main floor, to the reference library one level above. They could work or read from the comfort of their couches, and watch the sea toss waves against the base of cliffs that marked the boundaries of their property. Severus had his own laboratory, and there was even a tribute to Hogwarts, an elevated, colonnaded bridge that led from their bedroom to an overlooking tower, giving them a survey of wild moors around them. There, they could take breakfast with a 360 degree view to inspire them as they started their day.

“We already have a ghost,” Harry laughed over eggs and toast one morning. “Have you seen him?”

“I have not. Do you know anything about him?”

“It sometimes looks like a little boy. Sometimes fog. I researched the land before building. You can’t find a spot around here that didn’t have something to do with a crusade or a battle, but it’s not a burial ground at least. And I’ve done plenty of purification rituals.”

After Hogwarts, it felt something of an honor to have a benevolent spirit show itself.

Severus did not look up from his itinerary. He wrote as he spoke. “It is possible for such rituals to summon guardian spirits. Perhaps that’s our ghost.”

“I like that.” Harry smiled, enjoying the way sunlight fell on Sev’s hair.

“We should better acquaint ourselves, then. When your morning shower results in a mirror full of steamy condensate, take your finger and write the question, ‘Who are you?’ If you suspect there’s more than one, write one question each morning. When communication is most optimum, you will see your question answered on the mirror. Time is needed to learn to communicate between worlds. This is your house, you should make the initial contact.”

“This is our house. Equally,” Harry insisted.

“All I meant was, this is your project, you are the primary host. If you offer deliberate friendship, we will have all the home security that we require. No doubt, between the two of us, our magic and our settling allows our ancestors to watch over us. There’s no telling what we’ve woken up simply by being here.”

That was something to think about. Harry couldn’t wait to try the mirror thing. For the next week, he took the hottest showers possible and wrote his question over and over, until the trace of his finger left a film. The question remained there, and he saw it each time he exited the shower off the master bedroom. He told himself to be patient and distracted himself. One day, he was going to gain the spirit’s trust and look up and see his question answered. That felt good.

The house was a place meant for partnership and visionary enterprise. Severus had potions to patent, and Harry wanted to be of assistance in marketing and promoting them. They were to be a business couple, owning a small shop in London, while using their home as a creative haven to supply the magical commerce with whatever Severus invented in the way of holistic brews and therapeutic potions. And if a family just happened to come along in the process, they would be ready.

The house was made of the most enduring innovations in composite and natural materials. Every inch of stone was reinforced by magic. It would easily still be standing five hundred years from now, without any upkeep to the wards. Harry had haggled with contractors to get it right. Investing in one husband and one life, he spared no expense. It was supposed to have been the greatest gift he could give, barring his life, to Severus. Certainly, the greatest gesture he could make beyond their vows.  
Then he’d found the suitcase.

Severus had hid it away the minute his blindfold was removed to let him see where they’d portkeyed to after the honeymoon. He’d known that Harry had a surprise for him, and he for Harry. Their honeymoon didn’t have to be over. They could take it beyond Vegas. Sev’s reaction to the house was genuine astonishment. It was larger than anyone needed, but not larger than they both wanted. After Hogwarts, it would’ve been hard to settle for less space or less beauty. In Harry’s reach to create the brightest, most accommodating atmosphere, he’d miscalculated something. Neither would realize it for a while. He had forgotten that small, shadowy rooms offered refuge from the harsh light of day, when one needed rest even in the waking hours. To compensate, to regain that special feeling of being enveloped and secure on every side, walls would be erected, making smaller rooms, to provide just such an effect on the ground floor.

While Severus set about exploring their modest empire, Harry never forgot the way he’d locked the case out of site. It took persistence. It took so many questions, that Severus finally brought the case out and revealed his surprise. Maps, tickets, passport documentation, schedules, and plans to masquerade as muggles, as much as they could, as they toured remote and magical places in the world, spilled out into the open.

Colorful brochures romanticized their journey. In the East, they would walk the Great Wall of China and stand atop of the highest pyramid of Giza. Extra had been paid to explore the tunnels and viaducts beneath, which told the true nature of the magic involved. There were plans to return to America and experience a Peyote journey with Navajo Shamans, walk the hot coals of the Oromo Seers on the African Savannah, enjoy Dream-Time with the Aboriginals, and tour the Inner Earth Volcanic Faults that stretched in enormous cave systems beneath the Pacific Ocean, and was still largely unknown by muggles. They contained crystals as big as houses and were said to be portals to the stars.

The next few years were going to be the biggest adventure of their lives, and it was already purchased. Stacks of travel research spilled out of the case. Harry spied three-year waiting lists for guided tours, expensive receipts, letters of correspondence to various experts and renowned authorities on closed cultures, and notes executing Sev’s intention to be atop Mt. Fuji for the summer solstice of 2020, the one time in three hundred years that the rarest blossoms bloomed. A potion maker’s dream. While he’d been making plans to live in a great home, Severus had been making plans to avoid home altogether.

Harry got it. What would they need an extravagant house for? Maintaining it would only slow them down and he’d been a fool to think he could get away with such a massive project without discussing it with Severus. Nothing could make him regret his surprise, even if he regretted not comprehending Severus’s intentions.

“Did I get it wrong?” he asked. “When we spoke of what we both wanted for the next five years,” He said, as Severus began organizing the case to store it away again, “And you said that you wanted to work in peace, you wanted to stand still and breathe now that no one was trying to kill you, and most of all, you wanted stability, how does that figure in with traveling the world?”

He hadn’t meant to sound so bothered, but there it was. Severus was going to lie and pretend he wanted to be in the house when his whole being wanted anything but. Harry didn’t want him denying himself like that. Sure, he wanted Sev to be happy there, but not out of force. The house would’ve been built anyway, but perhaps not quite so rushed, and not so tailored to Sev’s needs. Harry needed a home too, and he was never going to feel at home at Grimmauld Place, as long as all that ancestral magic seeped through the walls like damp rot. He had to understand how he could’ve misread Sev.

Severus took his time answering. “No doubt this marvelous construction was long underway before our engagement. My exact words were, ‘I intend to be still. I intend to take advantage of the peace and the silence. I shall pursue my work without distraction and finally enjoy my stability.”

Harry waited, not hearing a real difference between his take and Severus’s.

“I was referring to the stillness in my mind. Potion-making is an art, and for decades, I’ve worn the disguise of a warrior, when I have only ever been an artist. My ears ring with the stomps and chatter of thousands of children who constantly need protection. I feel ever unsettled. Ever on the verge of fending off predators that want inside the school. My marriage to you represents a departure from all of that. A rest. When I feel that safe, when I can relax that deeply, I remember who I am. And I am reluctant to share that abundance of peace with anyone except you. When I am that centered, Mr. Potter-Snape, I get excited about brewing. I go for walks. I hike for miles looking for new ingredients. I become inspired with ideas and bottling magic that no one has dared to attempt.

“As I create my art, it moves me from one side of the world to the other. I am primarily a home-body, but I have not been outside those castle walls, not in pleasure, for far too long. You appreciate the temples of Philae so much better when you’re not aparating there to assassinate anyone. I wanted to admire muggle technology. Their ships are masterpieces. Their magnetic trains are a marvel. I wanted to walk in their ordinary world, the way I once did with my mother, and appreciate their presence among us. We have magic, yes. But we have innovation because of those who do not carry wands. I can ride a Ferris wheel with you, because some poor bastard didn’t get an invitation to Hogwarts. And that didn’t stop them from having magic in their lives.”

This melted Harry’s heart and made him love Sev’s perspective all the more.

“I began planning my voyage around the world to give myself a reason to live, a reason not to give up, were I delivered that final blow. You provided that reason when you said yes to my proposal. I am prepared to shred everything in this suitcase to prove to you that there is no where else I want to be, but right here beside you.”

Harry flung himself over the suitcase. “Don’t you dare. We’ll close the house up. I’ll go with you. My tickets won’t go to waste.”

“Nonsense. We’re not locking up this house for the next two years just to take some donkey ride down a canyon. We can do it at a later time. It’s bad luck to neglect a new home. It already has an awareness of us. A spirit. It will not understand if we abandon it so soon.”

“The little ghost boy? You think we’ll hurt his feelings?”

“I don’t know about him. I simply know that one does not raise a house without the assistance of greater magic. In my mother’s day, a witches home was never broken into. If an intruder did make it past the wards, the spirit of the house attacked. It didn’t kill, but one never set foot on the property again. This is why the ‘haunted house’ legend is so prevalent in all cultures today.”

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Severus shrugged. “Suit yourself. You made it in the spirit of supreme guardianship, and that’s exactly what you’ve got. There are entities who come when we call, whether we ever know it. The house has a feminine presence, and if we stay gone that long, she will feel rejected. She’ll keep intruders out, but we may face bizarre accidents when we get back. Women are like that. Grudges and all. We must make her feel appreciated and treat her as the Mistress of the House.”

“Oh my god, this isn’t funny. Now that I know your heart was set on that magnificent adventure, I don’t want to be the one standing in your way. I’m not going to be the reason we miss out on your plans. I want to do what you want to do.”

“I want to stay in this house and make use of the laboratory you’ve built for me.”

“You’re lying just to pacify me. You’ve been planning your life around travel. Now that you’re free, you want to fly. It’s only natural. So let’s go places.”

“At the risk of being called a liar again, by my husband, I tell you, I only thought I wanted to travel. Your wedding gift trumps my own. Now that I see it, all I want is to share our castle with you.”

“And now that I see your gift, all I want is to travel the world with you.”

“Not another word, Mr. Potter-Snape. You will only insult me. When I say, we will put your gift first, I mean it. I spare no one’s feelings.”

“I’m not a student anymore, that tone won’t work on me.”

“Then I shall change my tactic.” In one stride, Harry was face to face with his chest and bent backwards in a kiss that had him landing on the bed for support. When he fell, with Sev on top, the larger wizard climbed astride. He blanketed Harry with his body, and started something that needed finishing. Harry didn’t remember his mild anger until it was over and he lay panting beneath Severus. Then he got really angry.

“Hey! That was a dirty trick.”

“It wasn’t a trick. I merely changed the subject.”

“Well It may not show, but I’m still upset with you.”

When he’d recovered, he let his husband think the matter was settled. He waited until Severus was busy in his lab before attempting to remove the wards holding the suitcase in place. There was something about years worth of planning a wedding present, all stored in one place, that made Harry want to explore further. Maybe he’d see something that he could use to really make a case for going. He’d use Sev’s passion against him. He knew he could, if he could just break the damn wards.

Nothing he did worked. The strength of Sev’s charms nearly hurt his feelings. It was as if his husband didn’t trust him. It never occurred to him that the spells were their for safety. As he shot spell after spell, it never dawned on him, that the suitcase was virtually a portable reference library. The books were heavy enough, but the artifacts required a museum. The case contained an entire wing of knowledge that Severus had wanted at his fingertips, even if he found himself in the middle of the Amazon Jungle. It would be shrunken, lightweight, and entirely accessible. But stored in the absence of a trip, those charms weren’t needed. Harry couldn’t get the case to move, to come down off its closet shelf, not because it was merely warded, but because it was heavy. His magic broke through layers of protection, only to find more. When he ran out of patience and summoned the case with all of his determination, he realized his mistake.

The case responded with like force. It moved under the pressure of Harry’s spell, and hit him like a boulder. It stayed where it landed, on top of him. Two things detracted from his ability to use his magic to get it off of him. The pain and the loss of consciousness. Difficulty breathing, kept waking him from a dizzying blackness, as his body struggled to get enough air. The case crushed against his chest and his lungs could not expand adequately. He could not lift his arms under its weight. He couldn’t push it off of him. His magic tried, rolling his wand against his hand, when he summoned it from where it had fallen. Restricted oxygen interfered with his concentration. In his mind, he called for Severus. He called for help.

Lying long enough, in the threat of death, those arms reach out to you. They are more loving than people suppose. They promise to make all the pain go away. But the price is that you have to let go. Harry let go. When he did, he saw people in his home. Spirits, lights, presences. It occurred to him that they were not there for him. They were always there. There was no reason to panic just because he was suddenly aware of them. He was fine. He’d died before and he somehow knew that he was going to be all right. It wasn’t his time. And out of the little orbs of light that floated in the room, he kept his eye on the one that expanded. It grew oblong. Then oval. Then dimmed into a human shape until it stood by his feet looking like an angelic little boy with green eyes and black, shoulder-lingth hair. There was a suggestion of clothes, but it would take years for Harry to realize that he felt those details rather than saw them. That’s where ghosts get their clothes.

There was something friendly in the boy’s smile and the rest happened so fast, Harry would later rationalize that he’d simply passed out and dreamt it all. The little boy bent over him. He was all tenderness and innocence, right before the age where school starts and all that has to go away. His skin glowed with love. Harry felt his heart’s panic relax at the sight and he let it fill his soul. The boy lifted the case off and gently placed it beside him. Relief and gratefulness flooded Harry’s being. He couldn’t speak, but so wanted to tell the child ‘Thank you.’ He was suddenly too weak to keep his eyes open a minute longer. They closed, but he took with him, the tiny kiss that the child pressed against his cheek.

When he awoke, the room was empty and he couldn’t explain how he’d gotten on the bed. He felt so good, in the wake of the kiss, that he stayed there just to commit the experience to memory. He couldn’t wait to tell Severus. It was only when he tried to stand, that he realized he hadn’t gotten off that easily. He was bruised. He did a pretty good job of hiding it for the rest of the evening. Ever observant, Severus kept asking him if he felt well all through dinner. They discussed getting a house elf and Harry made a convincing point of wanting to understand the needs of their home himself, before expecting another to take care of it.

“I know it from the plans. I need to live in it, to see what it really needs.” He couldn’t manage to bring the suitcase up. Something about being grateful to be alive, made him keep to safer subjects. All the while, Severus narrowed his stare, pausing before each bite. Harry knew, that he knew Harry was hiding something.

It all came to a head that night. After midnight, that’s when the pain woke Harry up. He thought it was muscle cramps and bruises, and told Severus to go back to sleep. When a hot soak did nothing to ease the pain, and he opened his eyes to find his bath gone red, he looked up to find Severus standing at the door. “You were moan--.”

That’s as much as Severus got out, before he exploded into action.

The mediwizard came and went. They got Harry settled and back into bed again. The sun rose and set in the silence of their bedroom, where he remained for the next two days. The mediwizard had been firm.

“The next twenty-four hours are critical. The spell will hold for that long, but that doesn’t mean that your body won’t reject it. I don’t even want to move you to a hospital, you’re better off here. Be still.”

He turned to Severus, “Bring him anything he needs. Do not, so much as let him walk to the bathroom. There is a slight chance that the rupture will hold long enough to mend itself. But I have a responsibility to tell you not to get your hopes up.”

Harry was never good at being still. But he lies there, avoiding the torture of it by recalling that beautiful little boy. By thinking of all the unseen life that must constantly surround everyone, without anyone being the wiser. Severus brings him books, music, and even moves a muggle television into their room. Together, they learn video gaming in bed and Harry relaxes enough to confess how the accident happened. And even though Severus tells him he doesn’t need his forgiveness, Harry asks for it anyway.

It takes another two days for Harry to stop fooling himself. He washes, dresses, and makes a choice to get on with life. He has a marriage to tend to. He’ll find a way to make peace with this. This is what he’s deciding in the dawn hours, when Severus finds him on the steps. It’s still dark, but they can see the sun making its grand appearance. Only, when it finally lights the hemisphere, it reveals more clouds than sun. He sighs. He’d drug himself outside to sit in the sun, hoping he could soak up something bright and life-giving.

Sensing his disappointment, Severus reminds him, “Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It’s still bright, and warm, and gold.”

‘All is well’, were the true meaning in his words.

Harry warmed to that. His voice sounded distant to his own ears. “I would’ve named him Jory. I like that name.”

“It’s a good name.”

He made several more starts to speak, but they were false. The wrong words kept coming. He finally let it out. “Why didn’t I pay enough attention to my body?” This was the only mystery holding him upright. He had to figure it out.

Severus wanted to tell him that something must’ve been wrong. Harry didn’t injure their child and it wasn’t his fault. It was quite common to lose the first one. The first one primes the body, stimulates resources of survival and stamina in the birth-parent, that may not be there at first. Then it comes back when the womb is stronger, or when cell division unfolds without any issues.

He doesn’t say this because one, he doesn’t want to get into how he knows it. And two, because he knows that Harry is too upset to really hear it. Perhaps by nightfall, he will allow himself a reduction in guilt, and will hear it.

Severus scooted closer. “You didn’t build this house for me or for you. You built it for our child’s life. You wanted nothing to resemble your own imprisonment inside a cupboard. You went to great lengths to achieve that. Don’t worry. We will have another one. Before the year is out, when there is no more remorse in our hearts, I will put another one inside of you.”

In other circumstances, Harry would’ve laughed at Sev’s blunt determination. But right now it comforted him. He turned to Sev and buried his head in his chest. Severus held him there and stared into the future that he’d just decreed into existence.

Upstairs, in the master bathroom, the faucet turns itself on. The water is scalding. Letters appear in beaded vapor that forms over the mirror above. It’s as if a warm, tiny finger is melting a trail. It spells out a name, now that it has one.

Harry doesn’t want to leave the comfort of Sev’s chest, but his eyes are swollen and his nose is a mess. He pulls away, almost embarrassed, to clean himself up. Severus is reluctant to let him go.

Neither realize yet, that they are obeying the summons of the house. Minute trembles in the foundation tell them when something is amiss, and which room to go to. When Harry gets to his bedroom, he thinks he’s going to throw himself on the bed and finish his cry where Sev can’t hear him. It’s just something he needs to do.

But instead, it appears he’s left the water running. He curses, turns off the hot, turns on the cold, and splashes his face. When he wipes the water out of his eyes, he sees the answer to his steam question, that he asked weeks ago. He squints, just to be sure. His heart stops. The letters are very clear. J-O-R-Y. The little boy who lifted the suitcase off of him. His name was Jory.

***

With their house’s blessing, they spend the next year traveling, until Harry learns that he’s going to have another child. To play it safe, they cut their trip short and return home, where the house can watch over Harry. When their son is eight years old, they argue about taking him out of school, and whether he’s old enough to travel off the beaten path with them. In the end, they resume their exploits and show him the world before he starts classes at Hogwarts. By the time he receives his letter at age eleven, he is well ahead of his peers in terms of magic, travel, and cultural appreciation. And he has a three year-old sister.

* * *

[Top stories from this writer](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1031138)

**Author's Note:**

> *Note: I've learned that my stories never really end. Even if I mark a chapter complete, inspiration could still have me adding to it.


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